


All over again

by fromthedeskoftheraven



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Kissing, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-20
Updated: 2016-07-20
Packaged: 2018-07-25 17:30:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7541596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromthedeskoftheraven/pseuds/fromthedeskoftheraven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin's love encourages him on a sleepless night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All over again

The air of Erebor feels thick, heavy with silence and darkness, and even the soft pad of your slipper-clad feet on the stone floor echoes as you make your way through musty halls still littered with debris and lit only sparsely with lanterns. The mountain seems to slumber along with its inhabitants, and your lonely wakefulness draws you like a magnet to the one person whom you know also finds sleep elusive.

You find him in the throne room. 

The smell of the smoldering brazier beside him reaches your nostrils, and for a fleeting moment your stomach lurches with the vivid memory of other nights when you had found him here, rooted to the throne as though sleep would rob him of his kingship, bitter and suspicious and raving about the arkenstone.

Tonight, though, he sits crownless and clad in nightclothes on the steps of the dais, his elbows resting easily on his knees. The eyes that meet yours are clear and kind, and their corners crinkle with a welcoming smile as he extends a hand to you in wordless understanding. Strong fingers close over your own, and he presses your hand to his lips before drawing you to a seat beside him, tucking you into the crook of his arm. The fur of his robe’s collar tickles your cheek when you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Can’t sleep?” His voice breaks the silence, deep and rich, reverberating on the stone even in its softness.

You only shake your head in response, taking his hand between yours to trace the ridges of vein and tendon that map the weather-worn skin with your thumbs.

“What troubles you tonight, Thorin?”

He smiles ruefully, as though he’s been caught out, but he keeps his tone light. “Why do you assume I am troubled? Perhaps I am only thoughtful.”

“Mmm,” you nod, with a knowing smile. “What makes you thoughtful, then?”

There is a long pause before he speaks.

“Do you ever wish…” he begins, but trails off, as though the right words elude him. 

“What?” You prod him, your curiosity piqued. “Wish for what?”

His imposing profile, thrown into shadow by the light of the brazier, reminds you of a statue, regal and magnificent. 

“Sometimes… **I want us to start all over again**.”

“Us,” you repeat uncertainly, considering the possibilities. The Company? The dwarves? The line of Durin?

“You and I, _amrâlimê_ ,” he says quietly, and the air seems to go out of your lungs.

“Why?”

Regret creeps into his tone as he stares over the cavernous room, tomblike in the darkness. “I wish you had not seen my failings, had no memory of me as cruel and weak…consumed with that foul lust for treasure.“

“Do you not have enough worries with treaties and trade negotiations,” you ask gently, “that you must doubt my love for you?”

“I do not doubt your love,” he half-smiles, shaking his head. “I wish only to be more worthy of it.”

Your heart is wrenched by his stoic honesty, by the burdens that have yet to fall from his shoulders, by the dawning understanding that throughout the quest you’d all thought of reclaiming Erebor as Thorin’s happy ending when in reality it is only the beginning of a new chapter.

In that instant, you know that you wish to spend the rest of your days proving to this beautiful, burdened King that he is deserving of all the love you have to give, and your hand cups his cheek, turning his head to look at you.

“Thorin, everything that’s happened has made you the man I love today,” you vow. “You are kinder for regretting cruelty, stronger for having overcome weakness. You’re a good man, and you will be a great King, and I could want for nothing more.”

Gratitude and something like pride flare in his eyes, and his hand rests on your cheek, slides to the back of your neck as his lips capture yours, slowly, but hinting at the heat that always smolders within him, kindled now to flame by your words of love. His kisses are lush, generous, thorough, and he pants slightly when he breaks away to look at you with a worshipful, hungry gaze.

“Come with me…stay with me tonight.” His tone lies somewhere between plea and command, and his low, roughened voice sends electricity through your veins.

You only nod, dazzled by the beauty of his piercing stare and the possessive desire that rises in you, makes your heart flutter in your chest as thought it had sprouted tiny wings.

Thorin looks searchingly at you and his face softens, the fire in his eyes mellows to tenderness, though his fingertips still seem to have lightning in them as they trace the line of your jaw.

“May we always find peace in one another’s arms.”

“Always,” you agree, seeking his lips again, and the two of you become lost in each other in the same room that witnessed your heartbreak, at the foot of the throne that had made him a tyrant.

He smiles as he takes your hand in his to lead you swiftly away from this vast, sleepless hall, and you walk with him as though swept along by a force of nature, strong and glorious as a storm, to the refuge of his chamber and his loving arms.


End file.
